Zeta Squad: Data Retrieval
by aragornwen
Summary: They aren't supposed to exist... So who better for a rather sensitive mission? Yes, this is the same Zeta Squad that Bes'la'liik writes about... It's a joint effort. You should go read hers too.


Ara'nov slipped out of the ventilation shaft, wondering again just why she got all the hard jobs. The answer was, of course, because the hard jobs were her sole reason for existence, but it was cold comfort. Not that it really mattered anyway, and the sooner she retrieved the data, the sooner they could all get off this miserable little backwater planet.

She glanced around the darkened room, wishing for her helmet before spotting a dim computer screen. She crossed the tile floor, treading carefully so as to make no noise with her armored boots. Settling herself in front of the terminal, she pulled the data spike from a belt pouch and inserted it. The screen brightened and lines of glowing blue characters began scrolling across it. The spike was definitely a welcome addition to her kit; she never could have sliced into the terminal that quickly. Nau'laar was truly an artist among data deceivers.

She checked the chrono on her wristplate and hissed quietly in annoyance. Only ten more minutes to get the data and get out. The screen went suddenly blank, and tiny red and green lights pulsed on her data spike. _Finished, then_. She breathed a sigh of relief and removed the spike, standing and tucking it back in her belt.

She froze suddenly, feeling the cold metal of a blaster barrel pressed against the back of her head. "Hello there, sweetheart. And just where do you think you're going?"

She raised her hands slowly, gritting her teeth at being called "sweetheart". How could she have been so stupid as to get caught? The voice, a man's, deep and amused, continued. "That's the ticket. Now, what would you be doing in Aus Derask's manor in the middle of the night?"

She took a deep breath, feigning fearful bravado. "What's it to you?"

"Derask pays me to make sure nobody's running around his place in the middle of the night." The blaster gently prodded the back of her head. "You're awfully curious for the one on the other end of the blaster. Now, answer the question, yeah?"

"Creds." Ara began to lower her hands, but a sharp poke to her head stopped her. "Some guy in a cantina offered me enough to get off this sorry rock if I could get him some data. Nothing personal. He didn't even really tell me what information he wanted."

Her unseen assailant gave a short bark of laughter. "Yeah, yeah, sure."

"Hey, look, how 'bout I just give you the data spike and we forget the whole thing?" Ara tried to sound slightly desperate, working what she hoped was a convincing quaver into her tone.

The blaster barrel nudged the back of her head again. "How 'bout you hand over the spike and come along quietly?"

"Do I have a choice?" she asked, sounding dejected. "Look, it's in my belt. Don't shoot me while I'm getting it out, okay?"

"All right, but keep one hand where I can see it."

Ara allowed herself a small smile as she slowly dropped her right hand to the small holdout blaster concealed under her jacket. She ducked suddenly, spinning and kicking savagely at the man's hand. His blaster clattered to the floor, and she kicked it away as he swore in pain and surprise. She leveled her small blaster at his head, but he knocked her hand aside and the shot went wild, striking sparks from the ceiling. He grabbed for her wrist, forcing the pistol up and away from him, and she twisted her arm, trying to escape his clasp. He tightened his grip, trying to force the pistol to point back toward her, and she stamped on his instep. He grunted in pain but didn't loosen his grasp, digging his fingertips into her wrist instead. She hissed, face contorting as she tried to keep hold of the small blaster, but he wrested it from her fingers. She snatched at it with her free hand, throwing off his aim so that the shot fired hit her shoulder instead.

Her knees buckled with the sudden blaze of pain, and only his grip on her arm kept her off the floor. She gasped and gritted her teeth. Her assailant shook his head and pulled her upright, grabbing her in a headlock and pressing her blaster's muzzle to her temple.

"_Now_ will you cooperate?" he asked, slightly breathless. She snarled and struggled, and he tightened his arm around her throat and whacked her wounded shoulder with the butt of the pistol. Tears sprang to her eyes, and she sagged against him, gasping in pain. He shouldered her back onto her feet and forward, out of the dark room and along the hall, dimly illuminated by small lights along the wall.

A broad-waisted man in a security guard's uniform looked up from a holozine and a disposable cup of caf as Ara's captor half-carried her into the bright room. She blinked painfully, eyes slowly adjusting to the light as he dumped her unceremoniously onto a chair. The first man took a sip of caf and spoke. "What'd you drag in this time, Jith?"

"Just another small-timer trying to steal some data," her captor answered, securing her wrists with binders. The larger man grunted and turned back to his 'zine. Through the haze of pain, she realized she resented being called a small-timer, but in her current situation, it was better that they underestimated her. She hoped that she was underestimating herself, because that blaster burn _hurt_. She decided to play up her weakness and slumped in the chair, biting her lip.

"Hey, how 'bout some bacta?" she complained, wishing that the light body plates under her jacket had protected her shoulder too. "Since, y'know, you kinda shot me."

Jith ignored her, searching her belt. He tossed the data spike onto a table, followed by three vibroblades, a throwing knife, and a few poisoned saberdarts. She hoped he wouldn't think of looking in her boots; she'd need that knife and blaster if she was going to get out of here in one piece. At this point, the data would be just a bonus, although she'd hate to lose the spike. Nau'l had spent too long on it for her to be happy about leaving it behind.

"So, you just gonna ignore me then?" she asked, trying to distract him. The burning in her shoulder had ebbed slightly to a throb, and though it wasn't her primary motive, bacta would be very welcome.

"Who are you working for?" he asked.

"Told you," Ara answered sulkily. "Some guy in a cantina. Forget his name."

"Couldn't have been Vaster Kryf, could it?" Jith met her eyes, watching carefully for some hint of recognition. She carefully kept her face neutral, shrugging and wincing.

"Can't remember. Could be. Look, my shoulder really hur-"

He backhanded her across the face. She hissed in pain. "Hey! Look, I'm sorry I can't remember, but smacking me around isn't gonna improve my memory."

"I'd be more inclined to believe you if your story wasn't so pathetic. If you don't even know who he is, then how are you supposed to get the data to him?"

"He gave me a comm number to call when I got the stuff, and we'd arrange a meeting. The rest of the creds would get transferred to my account when he got it." She hoped it sounded plausible enough. It made sense to her, but thinking up credible stories when under pressure was not her specialty.

He snorted in exasperation and disbelief and hit her again. She licked her lips, tasting blood, and took a deep breath, quelling her rising temper. "Yeah, don't you feel brave, beating up a female half your size? I told you, I don't know any more."

Jith's head snapped up at a timid tap at the door. A blonde girl, wearing a slave's clothes and an ingenuous expression, stood in the doorway holding a tray with two caf mugs. She moved quietly forward to the table, keeping her head down and transferring the mugs from the tray. The holozine-reading men looked up and frowned.

"Hey, what are you doing in here? Slaves aren't supposed to be in this part of the house."

The blonde girl looked up, eyes wide with innocent surprise. "No? Well, I am sorry." Swinging the heavy tray like a club, she brought it smashing down on his head as Ara drove her armored boot into Jith's gut. Both men collapsed, Jith gasping in pain, and the blonde bent over him and pinched something at the base of his neck. He shuddered and went still. She straightened and swept her hair out of her eyes, and Ara grinned at her.

"Took you long enough there, Besl'ika. Want to get me out of these things?" She held up her wrists, wincing again at the stab of pain in her shoulder.

Bes'la sighed, releasing the binders. "What have you done to yourself now?"

Ara stood, rubbing her wrists and scowling down at the motionless Jith. "_Chakaar_ called me sweetheart. You sure we can't kill him?" She slipped the data spike into her belt pouch and began tucking all her weapons back into their hiding places. "Let's get out of here. I miss my armor."

Bes'la toyed with the throwing knife. "Waiting on you, Led. And you might want some bacta for your shoulder… Looks rather nasty. And your lip is bleeding."

Ara raised an eyebrow, looking exaggeratedly down at her shoulder. "No. Really? I hadn't noticed it at all," she said, her tone sarcastic enough to drop a gundark at a hundred meters.

Bes'la shrugged, impervious. "Just thought you'd like to know. Oh, and here's a sharp of painkiller, since we'll be crawling through who knows how much of the ventilation system…"

Ara emptied the sharp into her shoulder, wincing slightly, then snatched the knife back and stuffed it into her belt. "Thanks. Let's go."

It took only a few moments to pry open the ventilation grate. "I'd better go first, Ar'ika," Bes'la drawled, "just in case you collapse from pain. Dragging you will be easier than pushing you."

Ara'nov snorted, knowing it was because Bes'la had the blueprints on a datapad. "You just don't want to have to stare at my bum the whole way."

Even without seeing her face, Ara could tell Bes'la probably had an eyebrow raised. "Can you blame me? And we'd better keep it down, just in case…"

"Right. Good point." The crawl out through the small darkened tunnels seemed to take twice as long as getting in, and it was with a silent sigh of relief Ara slid out of the shaft to see Bes'la brushing down her skirt and Nau'laar, grinning like a demented monkey lizard, sitting in the pilot's seat of the waiting speeder.

"Didja get it? Did my spike work?" Nau'l demanded as Ara slid into the back seat.

"Like a dream," Ara answered shortly, pulling the bacta spray from the medkit. Slipping off her jacket and pulling up the sleeve of her tunic, she braced herself and squirted a generous dose onto the blaster burn. Even with Bes'la's painkiller, it stung like nobody's business, and she bit her lip as she quickly applied a bandage and gently pushed the sleeve back over it.

"You okay there, lead?" Nau'l asked, noticing her officer's injury for the first time.

"Never better," Ara answered caustically, turning sideways to lie down in the seat.

"Really, Ar'ika, you ought to be more careful. Can you go a single mission without injuring yourself?" Bes'la had settled herself in the front passenger's seat and was surveying her officer with an expression of smug benevolence.

Ara rolled her eyes. "No, Bes'l'ika, I go out of my way to get hurt because I enjoy it so."

"Mmhmm. You're funny, Led."

Ara muttered something indistinct and threw her uninjured arm over her eyes. "Just wake me up when we get back to wherever we're going."

"Sounds like someone needs some stims…"

Ara magnanimously chose to ignore this last comment.


End file.
